


Homeward Bound

by kingofthelivingdead



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Original Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:53:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingofthelivingdead/pseuds/kingofthelivingdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the stories told of the elite peace-keeping faction known as Overwatch, many people looked towards the ensemble of heroes to protect them, and uphold safety and freedom in the world. However, the organization fell, only to rise again at the threat of another Omnic Crisis. As the world needs more heroes, many citizens young and old step forward to fight for the greater good, and none more so than Mo. Born in Cape Cod, Massachusetts, Matthias Oswald, or Mo, was once a brilliant and dedicated scholar of energy engineering and physics, who's dream was shattered by the potential conflict, leaving him left to the unforgiving streets. Perhaps there is still a chance for the young student to find a place in the world again, even if he has to fight for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> This is the backstory for my Overwatch OC, Mo, and his first interactions with Overwatch itself. I spent a good bit of time on this, since I'm trying to really push my skills as a concept writer and character builder. If you have any comments to say, please post them!! If you simply like it, leave a kudos. Any feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy!!

Mo sat in the abandoned store that he temporarily called home, though this “home” was less than standard; empty shelves housed spiders and rodent droppings, dirtied floors with stains and dust, and moldy walls with peeling paint put the young man far from the lap of luxury. But, it had its perks, and these perks are what have been keeping the engineer alive for this long. Running water and plumbing was the biggest plus, along with the stove in the back that worked just enough to bring water to a boil. While the store itself had no food, the markets about a half hour walk did, so in reality, Mo was living the life every homeless adult wished for. But it hadn’t always been like this. No, it took one action, one selfish decision, to bring a happy-go-lucky 21 year old down to the streets, begging to strangers for money. 

It all started just under a year ago, at an engineering and technology institute in downtown Boston, Massachusetts. Mo was the valedictorian of his class, and had earned a free ride for a 4 year course at the school of his choice. As an an engineer and physicist, a university like the one he chose was all he wanted in life. He could create devices that harnessed the new fuel of energy cells, and he could find a way to make it cheaper and cleaner than ever to give the populace a way to live comfortably, especially ones that couldn’t afford it. In his younger days, Mo had always appreciated the small things, so using his passion to make a better world was his dream. After scoring straight A’s all throughout high school and achieving one of the highest test scores on the final exams, and even managing all this without parents and bunking with friends, his dream was in his hands. But it was terrifying how easy something so wonderful could slip right from his fingers

“...They did what? They pulled our funds?” Mo’s heart raced when his professor informed the young student of the fact that the college was now broke. All funds had been pulled to fund more government works and “more resourceful” colleges, or so the professor explained. All students were told to simply pack up and leave, since there was nothing more to do. Within days, the halls were a graveyard of papers, miscellaneous school supplies, and the lively air of knowing that behind every door was a bright minded young adult. Mo was one of the last to leave. He was still in shock, and couldn’t bring himself to leave until the power was cut and all electricity simply ceased. 

After shock came fear, anxiety, and worst of all, loneliness. Mo had nowhere to go. His friends were all at different colleges. His parents rejected him, something that shouldn’t happen to a 16 year old with no other relatives to turn to. After cleaning up all he had, Mo set out on the streets with his latest inventions in tow, knowing that what he had created would never be shared with the world.

Now, Mo sat in the dirty, run-down store, eating the meager portion of a ham sandwich he had left. He had grown used to the solitude already, especially in a shady town where everyone wants what someone else has. Which is why the voices startled him to where he knocked over the tower of empty food cans he made to pass the time.

“You hear that? Someone IS in there!”

“I told you! I had seen ‘em come in an’ out, ‘n they got some fancy shit on their arms. Probably worth a lot!”

Mo shook as the voices grew louder. Two, three, four pairs of footsteps were approaching the entrance of the store, along with sounds of chains and pipes scraping the ground. Then, much to Mo’s dread, the footsteps split up, with some of them moving to the back entrance. There was no escape; the windows were boarded or blocked, and the air vents were far too small for any person to fit. In his panic, Mo didn’t even realize that one of the looters had already entered, and snuck behind the young man, wrapping a chain around his neck and pulling back hard. Mo choked and began to writhe, gasping and wheezing for air as the criminal spoke.

“Now, me an’ my boys just want those fancy gauntlets you got there, so just hand ‘em over and…” He let out a dark and vile chuckle that made Mo struggle more, only tightening the chain against his windpipe. “...me an’ my boys might not do nothin’ to ya.” 

The rest of the gang entered the shop, carrying scrap weapons like pipes, bats, and wooden planks with nails in them. Mo wheezed before letting out a hoarse “Try m-me.”

Mo brought an arm forward before quickly jerking it back, elbowing the man behind him in the side, effectively distracting him enough that the chains slackened and Mo pulled away, coughing and gasping. As he began running away, another one of the looters grabbed Mo by the arm to stop him from escaping. Mo grabbed his arm, quickly twisting it and sweeping his feet under the attacker’s legs, successfully flipping him onto his back. Mo knew his luck would run out, so he took the chance and bolted out of the door, not looking back at the vandals that pursued him.

As he ran behind the shop, he ran into a tall man, one who had been running in the direction of the store. Mo fell back, landing on the hard ground with a thud. He stared up at the man, his wide, brown eyes meeting the red line of a visor. For a moment, time stopped. The man behind the visor stared back, fury hidden by the mask. A new fear filled Mo, knowing that this could potentially be another enemy to fight off alone. But, that did not happen. As reality came crashing back to Mo, the grey-haired man simply stepped over him, pulling his gun from his back and loading it up. Wait was he… going to fight them?

Mo stood up, looking back to the stranger, and to the looters that streamed out of the abandoned store. 

“Well, lookie here! Bite-size brought his daddy to come save him,” the apparent leader of the gang said, which was followed by taunting laughter from the group before he continued. “Outta th’ way, pops, the kid is who we’re after.”

“You’ll have to get through me first,” the man grumbled, loading his gun. The leader stepped forward, cracking his knuckles before lifting up the heavy pipe he was carrying. A few tense, wordless moments passed before he swung the pipe. In a mere second, the stranger who ran into Mo caught the pipe, pulled it towards himself before headbutting the looter and watched him crumple to the ground, not quite unconscious but obviously not getting back up. The other four members of the gang charged at the masked man, waving around their weapons.

Shots from the gun rang in the air as another one of the vandals fell to the hard earth, before the other three surrounded and tackled the man. Mo watched him struggle and try to fight them all off. In the midst of the flurry of punches and kicks, another shot rang out. But this wasn’t from the stranger in the mask; the purple blast shot out from Mo’s gauntlets, knocked one of the looters off of the stranger’s back. The grey-haired man looked over to Mo before throwing the other two attackers off of himself. As they stood up, Mo ran up to the man who seemed to be defending the engineer.

“I’ve got your back,” Mo said quickly, looking up at the man with a smile. The armed stranger said nothing, save for a slight grunt, as the last two looters came rushing forward. The one that had choked Mo with the chain rain straight for the young man, throwing a punch that landed square on Mo’s jaw. Letting out a cry of pain, he recoiled and threw his own punch, putting all his weight into it and hearing a series of cracks as it made its mark on the looter’s ribcage. He wheezed and stumbled to the ground, coughing up blood. All the while, the silver-headed stranger fought off the last vandal, kicking him to the ground and watching to make sure he didn’t get up.

Mo took a few moments to catch his breath, a smile growing across his face. “Wow, we… We actually did it! Hey, thanks a lot for-” Mo turned to the stranger, scrambling to jog and catch up to him, because he was already walking away. “Wait! Who are you? People like you don’t just leisurely walk streets like this. Who do you work for?” 

The man popped out the empty ammo cartridge from his gun, pulling out a loaded one and slapping it into the top slot of the gun. “Nobody but myself. Get lost, I don’t need to babysit you. I helped you, now go home.”

Mo scowled, huffing. “I don’t need to be babysat! And I can handle myself. I have for over a year,” he stated defiantly, folding his arms.

That earned a long stare from the man in the mask, which Mo felt without looking up at him. “...A year? How old even are you?”

“22. Why?”

The man let out a quiet, but long sigh. “Figured as much,” he muttered after a long silence as he powered his gun off. “Name?”

“Matthias Oswald. But just call me Mo.” He inspected the gun while the man fiddled with it, his gaze turning curious. “That’s a heavy pulse rifle, yeah? I haven’t seen one of those up close in a while,” the young man said absentmindedly, rubbing his own arm in thought. The stranger looked down, raising an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Mmhm. The last time I did, I was trying to figure out how to get it to operate on a more cleaner and efficient form of energy ammunition. I never got to finish those studies. You know, weapons like that were used by Overwatch and it’s operatives, and... was used… during…” Mo trailed off as the man he had been walking with stopped, a stern look on his face (well, judging by his eyebrows and forehead wrinkles).

Mo went quiet, his all too bright mind already connecting the dots. His eyes widened, and a sense of awe drew across his face. “No… You’re-”

“No, I’m not. I said I don’t work for anyone. Not anymore.” The man stated sharply, his tone curt and flat. He continued walking, putting the gun on his back and stepping past Mo. The ex-student followed, a starry gaze in his eyes. “You have to tell me about them! I know that a Recall has brought some of them together. Are they still together? When I graduated, I was supposed to work with Overwatch and help develop more energy-efficient weapons and be part of the head engineering team! If they’re back then I can-”

Mo was stopped by a gloved hand slapping over his mouth. The man bent down, meeting Mo’s eyes. “I. Am not. Affiliated. With them. Stop asking questions.” He waited for Mo to nod, a crushed look in his eyes as the man pulled his hand away, and began to head down the abandoned alleyways.

Mo stood there, his hands shaking in his gauntlets. His one chance of having a career, a sense of belonging, a life, was walking away with a red “76” printed on the back. His breath quickened, desperation clawing its way from Mo’s lungs and out his mouth. “Wait!” he called out, taking a few steps forward. He turned his boots on, which made his strides longer and made a small “bwoom” noise as his feet made contact with the ground. He planted both feet on the ground, and in a single bound he jumped over the stranger and landed in front of him, facing him and holding his hands out to keep him from moving forward. 

“Please… I know who you are. I’ve seen the news. They call you ‘Soldier 76’. They claim you to be a vigilante, a criminal on the run. But I know what you do. You- you save people. You stop criminals that cross your path and right any wrongs in the streets.” Mo spoke quickly, knowing it was a matter of time that the man would get fed up with nonsense, leaving Mo with a wasted chance to regain what he lost. But, the soldier kept quiet, waiting for the young man to go on.

“I spent my life reading about these heroes, these freedom fighters, knowing that they changed the world, shaping it in their own hands.” Mo lowered his arms, feeling the choking feeling of grief closing around his throat. “A-And to me, a high school student, rejected from his parents and hoping that his friends would let him spend the night, well, that was a dream too big. I can’t do what you guys do. But I knew I could help the heroes change our society without being on the front lines. So, here I am: my college shut down, I’m on the streets again, and my dream… My dream is standing in front of me, probably rolling his eyes under the mask and waiting for this kid to shut up.” Mo let out a humorless laugh, wiping his eyes. This was all so stupid, and hopeless.

The soldier simply stared at Mo, realizing the situation. This kid wasn’t just a hopeless youth with a dream too large for such a small mind; he saw someone with an open mind and a full heart feel the pain of losing everything after living life with nothing. He saw a reflection of himself in the tearful, brown eyes of this young man. He couldn’t just walk away knowing that the kid would just watch him leave and go back to living like how he found him.

“... So, you want to work for them, then?”

Mo looked up, swallowing hard and nodding. “Y-Yes, more than anything.”

“Are you willing to dedicate all you time, work, or even your life to this cause?” the grey-haired man stepped forward a bit, looking down at Mo.

The engineer nodded again, more passionately as he felt his heart race. Could this really be happening? “Yes! I’ll do whatever it takes to work alongside you all.”

A small glimpse of a smile crossed the aged soldier’s face, but it was hidden by the mask. He took a few more steps forward, clasping a hand on the smaller man’s shoulder and guiding him to walk beside him. Together, bruised and roughed up, but in brightened spirits, the pair ventured out of the run down town and onto the roads. 

The man spoke again, his tone less stiff than it usually had been. “The way there is long. I can’t follow the whole time, but I’ll guide you there.” 

Mo beamed, a sense of light and hope returning to his eyes, something that hadn’t been there for many months. “So, does that mean I’m…?”

Soldier 76 simply nodded, patting his shoulder as the open road stretched far in front of them. 

“Welcome to the crew, Mo.”


End file.
